


I Steal the Hours and Turn the Night Into Day

by whisperedstory



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Don't copy to another site, Flirting, Idiots in Love, M/M, Online Dating, Texting, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:21:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24354232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisperedstory/pseuds/whisperedstory
Summary: Jaskier stares at the picture of possibly the most stunning man he has ever seen and knows he's going to swipe right before he's even read the guy's profile.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 187
Kudos: 1652





	I Steal the Hours and Turn the Night Into Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tanathil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanathil/gifts).



> Betaed by [dancing_adrift](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancing_Adrift) <3
> 
> Title taken from "The Horror and the Wild" by The Amazing Devil.
> 
> There are a lot of text messages in this fic. Those that are left-aligned are from Jaskier, those that are right-aligned are from Geralt.

Jaskier's got soft music playing, the lights dimmed with a few candles flickering, casting shadows on the walls, and there's a glass of wine on the coffee table. 

It's a very romantic setting, perhaps a bit overdone considering that Jaskier is currently sitting on his couch and looking through profiles on a dating app, swiping left and right. Never let it be said that Jaskier is anything but _eccentric_. But he's had quite a day. All of his students decided to be distracted and moody today; most of them hadn't practiced, and Jaskier tries not to be offended—if they wanna screw around, it's their parents dime and not his problem—but it made him feel utterly frustrated. He deserves the wine and candles and pictures of hot guys.

And the odd contrast between the cozy setting and the no less than three dick pics he's already received tonight—two which were most definitely cropped screencaps from porn and the other which was less impressive than the guy had boasted, and all of which were unasked for, thank you very much—makes him chuckle. 

He pauses to take a sip of his wine, humming along to the melody as he sets the glass back down and looks at the next profile. He thinks maybe he needs some chocolate too, something dark and rich and sinful to go with the _scene_ he's set for himself. 

He swipes left. And all of his thoughts come to a screeching halt.

Jaskier blinks.

He stares down at the profile picture of what is possibly the most stunning man he has ever seen. Geralt, 32, 14.3 km away from Jaskier. He's got long, silver-gray hair that's partially pulled back, a strong jawline, and his eyes look a startling, unreal shade of amber-gold. The tank top he's wearing in the picture shows off wide shoulders and arms so thick he could probably strangle Jaskier. He squirms a little at the thought. 

He clicks to see his profile even though he already knows he's going to swipe right. He's hot enough that Jaskier will give him a shot either way, and if it turns out he's an asshole, then Jaskier might not want to date him but he'll still let the guy fuck him. 

The profile is short and succinct. He's a stuntman, likes animals and nature, and is looking for a relationship. Jaskier fist pumps, even though he knows a lot of guys might say that on their profile but don't actually mean it. But at least there's hope. Not that Jaskier is opposed to hook-ups or casual fun, but he's never quite learned how to stay detached and his foolish heart always, always gets involved.

He looks through Geralt's other pictures. The first one looks like it was taken while he was on a hike, overlooking mountains, and it's clear from the others that this guy is seriously into working out. There's one where he's kicking a boxing bag, and another of him standing on a cliff, his broad, glorious back facing the camera. There's another one of him in black gym clothes, hair tied back, standing in what Jaskier assumes is his home, and there are several swords mounted to the wall behind him. The fifth and final picture is Geralt crouched down next to a dog, a brown lab, and this time Geralt is smiling widely. It's a good look on him and it makes something warm and soft settle in Jaskier's stomach.

He takes another sip of wine—liquid courage and all that—before he swipes right, praying silently that Geralt will come across his profile and like what he sees as well, because Jaskier isn't sure he'll ever be able to feel happy again if he never gets his hands on this guy. 

_It's a match!,_ pops up on Jaskier's screen, with his and Geralt's pictures underneath, and Jaskier makes an excited little noise.

He isn't one for waiting around and playing games, so he goes to send Geralt a message immediately.

_Hi there._  
_I like the swords. Sexy in an only slightly concerning way._

He bites his lower lip, deciding that's enough for now. He's been told by more than one guy in the past that he talks a little too much and he doesn't want to overwhelm Geralt.

He's tempted to sit and stare at the message thread, waiting for Geralt to come online and reply. If he ever does. 

But Jaskier isn't that pathetic, thank you. So he goes back to perusing profiles.

Two glasses of wine later, he's made a few more matches and is chatting with some of the guys. There's one that is trying very hard to get Jaskier to come out for drinks tonight and his persistence is tipping from flattering to annoying quickly, and quite a few of the other "conversations" have just been guys propositioning Jaskier, but there's also one guy he's already been chatting with for a few days who seems quite nice and is pretty easy on the eyes. 

But Jaskier is a bit distracted tonight, thoughts straying back to Geralt, hoping he'll reply. He's far from the only hot guy on the app, but his looks are intriguing enough that he stands out and Jaskier finds himself fascinated before he's even talked to the man.

Jaskier pours himself one final glass of wine, vowing to cut himself off and go to bed, when a new message pops up. His drink is momentarily forgotten when he sees it's from Geralt.

_Yeah? My friend told me not to use the pic because it gives off serial killer vibes._

_Your friend isn't completely wrong. It's part of what makes you intriguing, I suppose. Could be a really hot guy who knows how to sword fight, could be a guy looking for his next victim to chop up._

_So you're into potential serial killers, huh?_

_Well, that's part of what makes *me* so intriguing._  
_So, are you?_  
_A serial killer?_

_I'm not sure what the right answer here is._

_Ah, yes. I could be an undercover cop._

_Don't want to scare you off._

_Not a chance in hell._

_In that case. No, not a serial killer. Sorry to disappoint._

_Darling, you could never disappoint_.

Jaskier grins to himself, feeling almost downright giddy at how easy it is to banter with Geralt—and the fact that Geralt seems willing to _talk_ instead of just asking Jaskier for some nudes. 

His phone chimes again.

_I'm off. I need to get up early tomorrow._

_Ah, maybe you can disappoint a little._  
_Sweet dreams._  
_Hope to do this again! You can always find me here if you wanna chat._  
_Well, not always. I do have a life outside of dating apps._

Jaskier facepalms and groans. 

"You're an idiot, Jaskier," he mumbles and gets up, putting his phone down and picking up his wine glass to take it into the kitchen. He doesn't want to sit and stare at his phone, waiting to find out if Geralt does or doesn't reply to his ramblings. 

He rinses his wine glass and leaves it by the sink before turning the lights off and then goes to blow out the candles in the living-room one by one. By the time he's done and retrieved his phone, there's a new message. 

_Good night, Jaskier._

Jaskier breathes a sigh of relief and vows he'll try harder not to sound like an idiot the next time they talk. 

And god, he prays there will be a next time.

*

There is a next time. Jaskier messages Geralt the next day, just a simple " _Hi. How are you?_ " and gets a reply a couple of hours later. They start talking pretty regularly over the course of the next few days—Jaskier more than Geralt, but Jaskier has never met anyone who talks as much as he does. 

They exchange numbers eventually, moving from talking on the app to text messages and, in Jaskier's case, voice messages.

 _Voice messages are weird,_ Geralt texts him one day when Jaskier asks why he never sends any.

_Sorry. I'll stop sending them._

_No. I don't mind._  
_I like your voice._

_You do? Thank you._  
_I sometimes play small gigs around the city, you know._

_Hmm._

_If you ever wanted to come._

_Maybe._

_That's not a no. I'll take it!_

*

_What kind of name is Roach? Geralt, that's not a good name for a puppy!_

_Is that so, buttercup?_

_Rude._  
_Did you look up my name? God, you're obsessed with me, aren't you?_

_I was intrigued._

_It's a nickname. But nobody really calls me by my real name._

_Which is…_

_Julian._

_Hmm._

_Hmm? What does that mean?_

_It just means hmm. Julian._

_You're an awful tease._

_What have I done?_

_Don't pretend you don't know. You do things to me, Geralt. Lots of things._

_Good._

_Good?_

_Yes._

_You're supposed to say I do things to you, too. Or… something._

_Something._

_Funny. You're really a truly hilarious guy, Geralt. Has anyone ever told you that?_

_No. That's never been a word that's been used to describe me._

_Well, gee, I'm shocked. Your humor is unparalleled, dear._

*

Jaskier enjoys talking to Geralt. He really does, more than he hoped for. And Geralt, bless him, doesn't seem to be put off by Jaskier's ramblings, and he answers all the questions Jaskier tosses at him patiently. 

Favorite color? Black (unsurprising).

Favorite food? Sushi (gross, but Jaskier won't count it against him).

If Geralt was an animal, what would he be? Wolf (Jaskier is a little ashamed to admit he will probably never be able to look at a wolf again and not feel a little flash of attraction). 

Favorite TV show? Documentaries (Jaskier would have said that's boring before, but he's starting to realize Geralt could tell him his favorite thing to do is stare at a blank wall all day long and somehow Jaskier would find that hot).

Who does Geralt think is the best musician in the world? "I don't know, I haven't heard you yet." (The answer makes Jaskier _melt_.)

But the thing is, while talking is nice, Jaskier is eager to meet Geralt. To see if the attraction he feels will be just as strong when they're face to face. He wants to be able to _touch_ Geralt.

After two weeks of talking, Jaskier decides it's time to take a first step and push things along. 

_Are you ever going to ask me out on a date?_

_Why do I have to be the one asking?_

_Well, you look like one of those guys. You know. Big and buff and manly. Like you like being in charge and be a typical guy. The fragile male ego is easily bruised. I didn't wanna step on your toes._

_Very thoughtful._

_Fine. Be that way. Geralt, do you wanna go out on a date with me?_

_Ouch. I'm not sure my fragile male ego can handle this._

_Asshole. I guess that means you really are one of those guys?_  
_Interesting._  
_Because, you know, from my experience, the more tough and manly a guy thinks he needs to be, the smaller his dick. It's all down to insecurities._

_Nothing small about me._

_Oh?_  
_Tell me more. Please don't be stingy with the details._

_You'll have to find out for yourself, buttercup._

_Well, you're the one who doesn't want to go out with me, so…_

_Are you free on Friday night?_

_I thought you'd never ask!_  
_Yes, I'm free. All yours._  
_I'm so happy you decided to ask me out, Geralt!_

_Already regretting it._

_No take backs!_

_There are always take backs._

_I'm sorry, who is this? You must have the wrong number._  
_I have no idea who you are, stranger, but if by any chance you happen to be trying to get out of a date with a really cute guy, don't do it. You'll miss out. I'm sure he's very pretty and interesting and amazing._

_Doesn't sound like the guy I have a date with._

_That's very rude, Geralt. You're not the gentleman I thought you were._

_I thought I had the wrong number and you didn't know who I was?_

_…_  
_See you Friday?_

_I'll text you the time and place._

_Looking forward to seeing you!_

_Me too, buttercup._

*

Jaskier isn't usually this nervous about going on a first date, but he has a feeling he's never been on a date with a guy like Geralt before. He changes outfits three times before settling on a black pair of skinny jeans and a short-sleeved, white button-down with small, pink flowers printed all over.

He breathes a sigh of relief when he gets to the restaurant and he spies Geralt at a table, looking exactly like he does in his photos. Jaskier didn't _think_ he was being catfished, but he's definitely met up with guys who had obviously used old pictures on their profiles or used Photoshop to touch themselves up.

Geralt, though, is even more gorgeous in real life. He stands when he sees Jaskier, dressed head to toe in black, and gives him an awkward little smile.

"Well, hello," Jaskier greets with a small laugh, and when it's obvious that Geralt isn't quite sure whether to shake hands or hug, Jaskier takes pity on him and wraps his arms around him. He smells nice, musky and clean, and he _feels_ even better. They're almost the same height, but Geralt is all thick, firm muscles and Jaskier is a little reluctant to draw back.

"Good to meet you, Jaskier," Geralt says.

Jaskier is glad he has a chair to sink down on, because that _voice_. It's deep and gravelly.

"You too. I hope I haven't left you waiting for too long, darling," Jaskier says and glances at his wristwatch, noting he's pretty much on time.

Geralt shakes his head. "I got here a little early."

"Well, it's very nice," Jaskier says and looks around, before smiling at Geralt. "Good choice."

"Hmm." 

"Do you come here a lot?"

"Sometimes," Geralt says. 

  
"Well then, you have to tell me what is good," Jaskier insists with a grin. "I eat almost anything as long as it's not raw fish."  
  
Geralt smirks a little. "You've made your feelings about raw fish quite clear," he says. "I was tempted to take you to a sushi place just to see how you'd react."  
  
Jaskier presses his hand to his heart. "You wouldn't have," he says. "Not unless you wanted me to have to fake one of those emergency phone calls and ditch you early. ' _Oh no, grandma fell down the stairs and broke her hip? I'm on my way. I'll meet you guys at the hospital.'_ "

"Hmm. You can't use that on me now if you want to escape from this date," Geralt teases.

Jaskier leans forward a little, looking right into those gorgeous golden eyes. "I don't think there's a chance of me wanting to do that," he says. 

  
*

The date goes pretty damn well. The food is great and Geralt is easy to talk to, and when Jaskier at one point voices concern that he's talking too much and barely letting Geralt get a word in, Geralt waves him off.

"I'm not much of a talker," he says, looking apologetic. "But I don't mind listening." 

Jaskier smiles blindingly at him. "Well, I've been told I talk enough for two," he says and Geralt only looks mildly amused in reply.

When they leave the restaurant—at which point most tables around them have already emptied and they've dragged dessert out for as long as possible without their waiter getting antsy—Jaskier slips his hand into Geralt's, pleased when Geralt doesn't pull away from the touch. 

Jaskier took the Tube, but Geralt came on his bike and Jaskier tells him he'll walk him to it partly because he's being a gentleman, but mostly because he really wants to see Geralt straddle a motorcycle. He's pretty sure it's going to be the last straw to Geralt ruining him for all other men, but it'll be worth it.

It's a gorgeous, sleek black thing, and Jaskier knows shit about bikes, but he knows it's damn _sexy._

"Here we are," Geralt says when they reach it, and Jaskier hums.

"Yeah, here we are," he echoes and lifts his chin, smiling flirtily at Geralt. "I had a very good time tonight."

"Good."

"And I wouldn't mind doing this again soon," Jaskier hints.

Geralt presses his lips together, looking a little uncomfortable. Jaskier's stomach drops.

He snorts. "Oh, wow, this is awkward. You don't want to go on another date," he says. "It's cool, don't worry. I'm a big boy, I can take rejection. So, I guess this is goodbye. I really did have a great time tonight, Geralt. Thank you for dinner and—"

"Jaskier," Geralt interrupts and touches his arm.

"Yes?"

"It's not that I don't want to see you again," Geralt starts.

Jaskier feels a flare of hope and he _almost_ wants to say that they can work around whatever the issue is. He wishes he could say that. That he'd be willing to keep seeing Geralt even if he's married or secretly a serial killer after all. But well, Jaskier knows he has to draw lines for his own sake. He's been the other guy several times and it never works out for anyone.

"But…" he prompts.

"I'm gonna be in L.A. for work for a month," Geralt says. "I'm leaving on Sunday."

"Oh?"

Geralt looks sheepish. "I should have told you that I'm leaving the country for a while before taking you out," he says. 

"Why didn't you?" Jaskier asks and steps a little closer, resting his hand on Geralt's bicep.

"I'm really not sure I'm sold on this online dating thing, but I liked talking to you. I wanted to go out with you," Geralt admits, and Jaskier's heart flutters a little.

"That's possibly the sweetest thing any guy has ever said to me," he says, and Geralt frowns a little. "So. A month?"

"A month," Geralt confirms.

"I'm pretty sure I'm still gonna want a second date a month from now," Jaskier says. "If you want that."

He holds his breath. Geralt relaxes a little and nods, looking at him almost _fondly_.

"I'd like that."

Jaskier smiles, feeling all light and happy. He shuffles a little closer, hoping he's not reading the signs wrong as he leans in. He hesitates, gives Geralt a chance to pull back. Geralt closes the distance between them instead, bringing their mouths together in a kiss. One hand comes to rest on Jaskier's waist, the other on the side of his neck, lips moving together slowly. It's a good kiss, sweet and chaste, but when they part, neither draws back completely. Geralt lets out a quiet, gruff sound and pulls him back in, kisses him again, this time a little harder, a little deeper. He coaxes Jaskier's lips apart, licks slowly into his mouth, and Jaskier groans into the kiss.

He was right. He is so most definitely ruined for all other men. 

*

As flattering as it is to know he made a good enough impression that Geralt wanted to go out with him despite knowing he was leaving for a while and that he wants to see him again once he returns, it's also _frustrating_. 

Jaskier _likes_ Geralt and he wants to see him again, wants to find out where this thing between them can go—and maybe it's just his foolish romantic heart talking again, but he thinks it could go pretty damn far. He's never been a very patient guy, and having to wait a month for something he wants so much isn't easy.

They go back to messaging each other and Jaskier sends Geralt photos—both of random things that he thinks might make Geralt smile or that he'll find interesting, and of himself. Geralt sends some back sometimes, though he's admitted he's not a huge fan of taking selfies and so most of the pictures Jaskier gets are either of food or nice scenery.

One evening, Jaskier records himself playing the guitar and singing a new song, and on a whim he sends Geralt a small snippet. 

He knows Geralt is busy with work, and with the different time zones he isn't really sure when Geralt will see his message, so he puts his phone aside and tries not to check it every few minutes.

He's getting ready for bed when he finally gets a reply.

_That's you._

_Yes, Sherlock._  
_You like it?_  
_Feel free to lie if you don't. I assure you I don't mind lies to spare my feelings._

_I like it._

_Really?_

_Yes._

_I'm not sure I can believe you, because I did just tell you to lie to me. But thank you._

_Not a lie._

_Oh you._  
_How was work? Did you do anything really dangerous but ridiculously sexy today? Again, feel free to lie if you didn't. ;-)_

_Jumped out of a moving car._

_That *is* sexy._  
_Unless you got hurt._  
_You didn't, did you?_

_No._

_Oh good. I can safely picture it then without having to feel guilty._

_Hmm. Doing anything particularly interesting while picturing it?_

Jaskier's mouth goes dry. He was just teasing, but Geralt's words make heat settle in the pit of his stomach. He licks his lips and lets the hand that isn't holding his phone rest on his stomach, fingers flirting with the waistband of the sweatpants he's wearing.

_Maybe. You want me to?_

_Maybe._

_Geralt._

_Tell me what you're wearing._

Jaskier curses under his breath, his cock starting to stiffen up in his sweats. 

_How do *you* feel about lies?_

_Be honest._

_Sweatpants and an old t-shirt. Not very sexy, sorry._

_Plenty sexy._

_Fuck. Are you touching yourself?_

_I want to. That okay?_

_Oh yes. Absolutely fucking yes. Do it._

_Are you?_

Jaskier lets his hand slide lower, resting over the outline of his cock, and palms himself with a groan.

_Am now. Thinking about you._

_Fuck, Jaskier._

_Yes._

Jaskier puts the phone aside to push his sweatpants and underwear down to his thighs, his cock fully hard now. He spits into his hand and then curls his fingers around himself, moaning as he gives himself a couple of strokes. Fumbling, he picks up his phone again, trying to type while jerking himself.

_Feels so good. Wish you were here._

_Me too._  
_Fuck._

Typing becomes too damn hard at that point, pleasure coiling in Jaskier's stomach as he swipes a thumb over the head of his cock, damp with precome. He puts his phone aside, eyes fluttering shut as he pictures what Geralt is doing. Pictures what he looks like, naked and hard and flushed. 

Jaskier bites down hard on his bottom lip and plants his feet on the mattress, thighs splayed as he reaches between his legs with his free hand. He palms his balls, breathing harshly, and then lets one finger slide further back, playing with himself without pressing in as he works himself faster. 

"Fuck," he spits, toes curling, and then he comes with a low grunt, all over his hand and shirt.

He lies there, staring at his ceiling and panting, waiting for himself to catch his breath. He wipes his hand on his shirt and grabs his phone.

There's no new message from Geralt yet, and Jaskier moans softly, thinking about Geralt still touching himself, getting himself off while thinking about Jaskier.

_That was good._

He has to wait a few moments before little blue dots appear as Geralt types.

_Fuck yes. It was._

_I'm gonna sleep really well tonight, I think ;-)_

_Good._  
_Sorry for keeping you up late._

_You never have to apologize for that! It was my pleasure._

_Same._

*

_I found videos of one of your gigs on youtube._

Jaskier stops stirring his pasta as he reads the text. He's not sure whether to feel pleased that Geralt looked him up on YouTube or embarrassed, because he knows which videos he must have found—there are only three, after all. They're a couple of years old and the quality is horrible and Jaskier had had a horrible haircut at the time.

_The sound on those is awful. I can send you better recordings if you're so desperate to hear me sing, darling._

_Okay._

"Okay," Jaskier repeats. "Okay, he says. Like that's not a big thing."

He turns off the hob, because fuck dinner, and then goes to retrieve his laptop to pick a few of the songs he has recorded over the years. He doesn't want to go overboard, so he decides to send Geralt three, agonizing over the selection and changing his mind several times before settling on which songs he thinks are his best and which Geralt might like.

 _Let me know what you think_ , he types out. It sounds composed, good, like this isn't one of the most terrifying things he's ever done. He has no problem with playing in front of crowds at some bar, but this? This is the guy he wants to date, _is_ dating, and he desperately wants Geralt to like his music.

_Thank you._  
_They're nice._

_Nice._

_It's a compliment._  
_I don't know anything about music._  
_But I like the songs._  
_And your voice._

Geralt is rarely this verbose and it makes Jaskier smile, realizing Geralt must either be nervous about this as well or worried that he said the wrong thing.

_Thank you, darling._  
_I can send you more if you're ever interested._

_Hmm._

The response is so _Geralt_ that it makes Jaskier grin, and then he grins even wider realizing that he knows Geralt well enough by now to be able to say that.

*

Jaskier has had a pretty shitty day. It started with him dropping his tea and spilling it all over the kitchen floor and ended with the mother of one of his students yelling at him because she thought her daughter wasn't making enough progress. Jaskier tried to stay polite as he told her that you don't learn to play the piano overnight and that maybe if her daughter practiced between lessons like he told her to, she'd be improving faster. But apparently the fact that his students' parents are spending "horrendous amounts of money" on the lessons means they're allowed to expect miracles. Jaskier didn't bother pointing out that his rates are far from horrendous, but he _is_ a gifted musician who graduated at the top of his class from one of the most prestigious universities in the country and not some _hack_ , so his time doesn't come cheap.

But he knows these types. Knows they expect him to work miracles while at the same time not taking him seriously. He's just the hired help, really. He loves teaching, he does, but he hates teaching these privileged rich kids. 

In the end, both his student and her mother marched off in a huff, muttering about finding someone better to teach. As if there's someone fucking better than Jaskier.

Jaskier wants to bang his head against a wall and scream in frustration. He wants to get stupidly drunk to forget the entire day. He wants to crawl into his bed and pull the covers over his face. He wants Geralt—and how can he miss someone, crave someone, he's only met once so damn much?

Jaskier sighs and grabs his phone and then heads into his bedroom to crawl into his bed. He forgoes the drinking, because he has to work tomorrow, and the screaming and headbanging, because he doesn't want his neighbors to hate him. 

He contemplates what to write Geralt, without coming off too needy, but he wants his attention, wants comfort.

_How's your day been going, oh mighty stuntman?_  
_Mine was shit._  
_Send me something nice?_

He isn't sure Geralt will even see his messages or have time to respond before he goes to bed, but to his surprise he gets an answer right away.

_Like what?_

_Wouldn't say no to a picture of you._  
_That would most definitely cheer me up._

_Do I get one in return?_

Jaskier smiles and lifts his phone, snapping a couple of pictures. They're not the greatest, with the side of his face pressed into his pillows and his hair dishevelled, but he still looks kinda cute. 

He picks the best and sends it wordlessly. 

_You're in bed._

_Astute observation._  
_You owe me a picture, good sir._  
_And maybe a compliment or two. Tell me I look pretty?_

_You know you do._

Geralt sends a photo right after the message. He's sitting on the ground in what looks like a parking lot, with a bottle of water in his free hand. His hair is tied back and he's wearing work-out clothes and looks just a little sweaty. 

_Ah, and just like that my day has turned around. Thank you, gorgeous._  
_What are you doing today?_

_Final run through of the choreography for a fight scene._  
_On break right now._

_Lucky me._

_Want to talk about your day?_

_Just… general crappiness and entitled people being assholes._  
_It's all good. But thank you for the offer, darling._

_Okay. If you're sure._

_I am._  
_You know, for someone who claims not to be good at communicating, you're awfully good at talking to me._

_Trying._

_Thank you. I appreciate it._  
_And I'm going to kiss you breathless when we see each other again, darling._

_Yeah?_

_Oh yes._  
_Just one more week._

_Looking forward to it._

*

There are butterflies in Jaskier's stomach as he makes his way through the park towards the southern entrance where he and Geralt agreed to meet up. Geralt had sounded a little sheepish when he'd suggested it, but he'd just flown in the previous day and gotten Roach back from his dogsitter that morning and didn't want to abandon her to go on a date a mere few hours later. Jaskier thinks it's cute, how much Geralt seems to adore his dog.

It's a dreary day, so the park isn't too crowded, which suits Jaskier just fine. The heavy rain, at least, has let up, but the ground is wet and muddy and the moisture in the air is no doubt making Jaskier's hair curl in the most unflattering way. But he doesn't care as long as he gets to see Geralt again.

He spots him easily, as always dressed in all black, his gray hair tied back, Roach sitting at his feet. 

Jaskier quickens his pace. 

Roach jumps up as he approaches, tail wagging and tongue lolling out, tugging at her leash.

"Roach," Geralt reprimands, and Jaskier laughs.

"Oh, she's just excited to meet me. She has good taste," he says. Three more steps and then he's right in front of Geralt, enveloping him in a tight hug. "Hi. Welcome back."

Geralt hums and wraps his arms around Jaskier.

Roach huffs, nosing at Jaskier's hip, and Jaskier laughs again and steps back to crouch down.

"Hello, Roach," he greets as he scratches her behind the ears, her fur wet. He shifts so he can worm his hand into the pocket of his jeans and retrieve the small handful of kibble that he bummed from his downstairs neighbors earlier.

"Can I give her treats?" he asks Geralt, looking up.

Geralt nods. "You're trying to buy her affection, huh?"

"It's called a gentle encouragement," Jaskier replies, holding out his open palm with the kibble for Roach, who slobbers it all up within a couple of seconds.

Jaskier gives her another scratch and then stands back up, wiping his hand on his jeans. Geralt is looking at him, head cocked to the side, a small smile on his lips.

"What?" 

"Nothing," Geralt says. "Waiting for the kiss you promised."

Jaskier breaks out into a grin and steps in close, bringing his clean hand up to cup Geralt's cheek. "Come here then," he says, and kisses him.

*

Geralt has a tennis ball with, and after walking about for a bit, they stop to play fetch with Roach.

"It'll tire her out," Geralt says. "Means we can have some time alone later without her getting in the way and begging for attention."

"Hmm, time alone? Whatever did you have in mind, Mr. Rivia?" Jaskier asks and watches Geralt make the first throw, the ball traveling impressively far through the air as Roach races after it.

"Dinner," Geralt grunts.

Jaskier laughs and shuffles closer to Geralt's side. "I'm hoping for a little bit more than dinner."

"It's only the second date," Geralt says, tone deep and teasing.

"And yet we've already sexted. What can I say, I'm a trollop," Jaskier says with a shrug.

Roach comes trotting back just then and Geralt bends down to take the ball out of her jaw, tussling a little with her. He holds the tennis ball out to Jaskier.

"You wanna?"

Jaskier considers the ball. "Depends. Will you be less attracted to me when you find out I throw worse than a toddler?"

"You can't be that bad," Geralt says and his gaze rests on Jaskier's arms and chest briefly. "You're in good shape."

"Oh, your faith in me is flattering, but sorely misplaced, darling," Jaskier says, but he finally takes the ball. "Watch and despair."

Geralt snorts. Jaskier throws the ball and as he predicted it doesn't go very far. He turns to Geralt with his eyebrows raised, and he's pretty sure Geralt is biting the insides of his cheeks to keep himself from laughing.

"I warned you," Jaskier complains. 

"It wasn't that bad."

Jaskier scoffs. "Liar."

"You said you want me to lie to spare your feelings," Geralt reminds him.

"Eh, yeah, you're right, I did. Go on then, tell me how amazing I am. Professional athletes quake in fear when they see me."

Geralt smiles a little. "Perhaps your talents lie elsewhere," he admits.

*

It starts raining again a little while later, a light drizzle at first that quickly picks up. 

Geralt's apartment isn't far from the park, but they're still soaked by the time they get there and Jaskier's teeth are chattering. Geralt ushers them all inside.

"Roach, stay," Geralt orders and Roach comes to a stop in the hallway. Geralt rests his hand on Jaskier's back. "I'll get a towel and dry her off. You want to take a hot shower to warm up?"

Jaskier nods and starts toeing off his shoes. "What about you?"

"I'll take one, too, when you're done," Geralt says and gives Jaskier a little nudge. "Come on, I'll show you where the bathroom is."

"Or," Jaskier says and licks his lips, "you could join me?"

Geralt meets his eyes and Jaskier smiles at him hopefully. "Alright," he says and nods, and those butterflies are definitely back in Jaskier's belly.

Geralt shows him to the bathroom and tells him to just drop his sopping wet clothes in the corner and they'll run them through the washer later, before he vanishes. Jaskier quickly strips down and then fiddles with the controls of Geralt's shower, yelping when the cold spray hits his arm as he turns it on. The water heats up quickly though—unlike in Jaskier's own apartment, where it takes forever—and he steps under the spray with a small sigh. 

Geralt has exactly one bottle of shampoo and one bodywash in his shower and Jaskier smiles as he makes a mental note to get the man some decent conditioner at least. He picks both bottles up and gives them a quick sniff—musky and nice, but not too strongly scented—and Jaskier hums, pleased.

He's feeling nice and warmed up by the time he hears footsteps in the bathroom. He peeks over his shoulder. The glass has fogged up, so he can only make out Geralt's outline as he undresses.

"Took you long enough," he says when Geralt opens the shower and steps in behind him. Jaskier turns around, meeting Geralt's eyes before making a show of letting his gaze travel down Geralt's body. Which is hands down the most magnificent thing Jaskier has ever seen; Geralt is all thick, beautiful muscles, perfect from head to toe, and his cock makes Jaskier's mouth water, hanging big and heavy between his legs, nestled in neatly trimmed, gray curls. Jaskier had never asked, but he'd wondered if Geralt's gray hair was natural and he guesses that answers the question.

"Well," he drawls, "I guess the whole thing about there being nothing small about you wasn't false advertisement."

Geralt huffs and shuffles closer, moving further under the hot spray. He lifts his hands and they hover around Jaskier's hips without touching. "Okay?"

"Dear god, yes," Jaskier says. "You can touch me anywhere you want, anytime."

Geralt makes a humming sound and his hands settle on Jaskier's hips. Jaskier wraps his arms around Geralt's neck and they both lean in, mouths meeting in a kiss that's slick with water as Jaskier tangles his fingers in wet hair. He shifts closer, and they both moan when their cocks brush against each other.

Their kisses get deeper, dirtier, and Jaskier's cock is starting to fill, heat settling low in his belly. He can feel Geralt isn't far behind and Jaskier is suddenly very, very glad they got caught in the rain.

He rolls his hips forward, grinds his cock against Geralt's hip, and Geralt breaks the kiss with a groan. 

"Jaskier," he says and ducks down, kissing his jaw and mouthing at his neck.

"Fuck, you're so hot," Jaskier murmurs. He licks at Geralt's collarbone, tasting the salt the water hasn't washed away yet, and then nips at the same spot. "Want you so much. I've thought about this so many times these past few weeks."

Geralt grunts and his hands slide from Jaskier's hips to his ass, squeezing. "Yeah," he replies, and Jaskier shudders against him. Geralt makes a quiet humming sound, pleased, and sucks at the spot just beneath Jaskier's ear. "Tell me what you want."

"Anything," Jaskier replies. 

The answer earns him a quick nip on his neck and Geralt kneads his cheeks, pulling them apart a little. "You like being touched here?"

"Oh fuck, yes," Jaskier groans, hips hitching forward, his body seeking friction. 

Geralt hums again and shifts Jaskier in his arms, angles his head and catches Jaskier's mouth in another kiss. As his tongue slips past Jaskier's parted lips he drags a finger down between Jaskier's cheeks, and Jaskier whimpers into his mouth. The feeling of Geralt's finger sliding over his hole, circling his rim, is electric, and Jaskier trembles and arches in the circle of Geralt's arms. 

Geralt's touch is slow, exploring. Jaskier ruts against him and thinks he could fall apart just from this, from Geralt's finger between his cheeks and the slick, hot skin against his cock.

"Please," he gasps when the kiss ends. Geralt rests his forehead against Jaskier's and shushes him, and Jaskier feels more pressure against his hole as Geralt slowly presses just the tip in.

"Fuck. _Fuck_ ," Jaskier spits and clutches Geralt's shoulders. He's not sure if he wants to push back and get Geralt deeper, or thrust forward to get more friction against his cock. 

"Got you," Geralt murmurs.

"Give me more," Jaskier pants. "Please, darling. I want to feel you in me."

Geralt grunts quietly, but he presses in a little deeper. The water eases the way as he slowly fucks his finger in and out, sinking in just a little deeper each time, opening Jaskier up slowly. His finger is thick and long and Jaskier feels the stretch of it, the slight burn making it oh so much sweeter. 

He moans and gasps out quiet encouragements between slick kisses, the noises spilling from his mouth getting louder and more desperate when Geralt starts rubbing against his prostate. Geralt wedges one thigh between Jaskier's legs, lets him ride it, and when Jaskier feels the pressure of a second finger teasing against his rim, he knows he's done, the tight coil of pleasure inside of him unraveling as he spills between them with a cry.

He's pretty sure he'd collapse into a puddle if Geralt wasn't holding him up.

"So good, Jaskier," he murmurs, his voice quiet and soothing, as Jaskier trembles through his orgasm. 

Geralt is still hard and it's when Jaskier slowly comes down that he realizes Geralt is rocking against him a little, clearly seeking friction. 

"Let me. _Let me_ ," he says and gives Geralt a little push, nudging him towards the shower wall. When Geralt is leaning against it, Jaskier drops down to his knees gracelessly. Geralt's cock is thick and flushed, curved against his stomach, and Jaskier wastes no time getting his mouth around him. 

Geralt groans and buries his fingers in the tangles of Jaskier's hair, holding rather than pushing. Jaskier hums around the head of his cock and inches forward, letting Geralt slide in deeper. He wraps one hand around the base of Geralt's cock and slips the other between his legs, fondling his balls and giving them a slight tug before sneaking his fingers past them. He looks up at Geralt through his lashes, waits for permission, and when Geralt nods with a groan, Jaskier lets the tip of his finger rub over Geralt's hole as he sucks his cock down deeper, gagging a little as he hits the back of his throat.

"Oh fuck, Jaskier," Geralt grunts.

It doesn't take long after that. Jaskier uses all the tricks he knows to work Geralt's cock with his mouth, licking and sucking.

"Going to come. Fuck," Geralt warns, and Jaskier draws back a little and hums around him, stroking Geralt with his hand and sucking at the tip until Geralt comes with a low grunt, spilling hot and salty onto Jaskier's tongue.

*

Jaskier decides he loves smelling like Geralt's shower products and wearing Geralt's clothes, even if they are too big on him and the gym shorts keep threatening to slip down his hips. He thought he looked atrocious as he got dressed, but Geralt looked at him when he stepped out of the bedroom like Jaskier was the hottest thing he's ever seen and Jaskier is pretty sure he wants Geralt to look at him like that for the rest of his life.

He joins Geralt in the kitchen as he starts making the dinner he promised, and when Jaskier offers to help, Geralt hands him a cutting board and a knife and tells him he can chop up tomatoes and a zucchini.

Jaskier gets to work and it takes all of ten seconds before he feels Geralt looking at him. 

"Yes, darling?" Jaskier asks as he looks up and finds Geralt frowning.

"Have you ever used a kitchen knife before?"

"Of course," Jaskier says and flicks the knife around a little.

"Jaskier," Geralt says, sounding pained.

"Oh shush," Jaskier says. "Let me do my chopping thing."

Geralt sighs and then pulls a drawer open and gets another knife out, which he hands to Jaskier.

"Use this one."

"Why?" Jaskier asks suspiciously, eyeing the much smaller knife.

"Because it's a lot duller," Geralt mutters.

"Geralt! Have you no trust in my abilities?"

"With a knife? No," Geralt says. 

Jaskier huffs, but he takes the new knife. "I want you to know that is deeply insulting and really troublesome, considering we are just at the cusp of this beautiful relationship and you're already being mean," he says and then pauses. "Not that we're in a relationship. Ignore that. I'm just babbling nonsense. I always do. Ha." 

There's a moment of silence and Jaskier focuses hard on the zucchini in front of him, trying not to squirm.

"I'm not looking for casual," Geralt says.

Jaskier lets out a small, relieved laugh. "That's good," he says. 

"Hmm."

Jaskier ducks his head, hiding his wide smile.

The zucchini and tomatoes are cut quickly, though the tomatoes look more like a messy pulp that Jaskier tried to murder, but Geralt only has himself and his dull knife to blame. To Geralt's credit, he doesn't complain.

"Anything else needs cutting?" Jaskier asks, waving his knife around playfully.

Geralt curls a hand around his wrist and gently lowers Jaskier's hand. "How about I pour you some wine and you just… look pretty," he suggests, sounding like he's trying to suppress a groan.

"Aww, you think I'm pretty, darling?" Jaskier asks. 

Geralt meets his gaze, expression soft.

"What?" Jaskier prods. "Cat's got your tongue now? It's okay, you can tell me I'm pretty. I _certainly_ won't mind. In fact, you may go into detail and even give it to me in writing. That would be perfectly acceptable."

"Stop fishing for compliments," Geralt grumbles. He's smiling a little, shaking his head as he turns. He gets a bottle of wine from the fridge and a glass.

"Not sure if this is good. It was a gift. I'm not much of a wine drinker," he admits as he hands Jaskier the glass.

"Eh, it's fine. I'll drink anything," Jaskier says with a grin.

Geralt huffs and then kisses Jaskier's temple. "Too pretty for your own good," he murmurs quietly, and Jaskier makes a surprised noise, a wide smile spreading over his face.

*

The next morning, lying curled up in Geralt's bed while Geralt is making breakfast for them—he _very seriously_ told Jaskier to not dare getting up yet—Jaskier opens the dating app on his phone. He painstakingly makes screencaps of the thread of messages he and Geralt sent each other before exchanging phone numbers. 

When that is done, he deletes the app.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/whispered_story) | [tumblr](https://whispered-story.tumblr.com/)


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